


Wrapped

by scribblemoose



Series: Bonding [5]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-02
Updated: 2005-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	Wrapped

Aya felt unaccountably nervous. He hadn't bought presents for anyone except Aya-chan for a long time. And never for a lover.

It didn't help that Yohji was so excited. Then again, Aya had come to realise that he found an excited Yohji to be less irritating these days.

That made him nervous, too.

He slumped on the bed and buried his face in his hands. He'd never get used to this. Having all these feelings that he thought had been extinguished forever flood back and take him over completely, all his carefully constructed walls and barriers in ruins. First Aya-chan woke up and now Yohji…

Aya found it very hard to trust good things. He could never quite believe that it was all real. A part of him was convinced that the day he did believe it would be the day his life fell apart all over again.

What if Yohji didn't like what he'd bought for him? What if it wasn't enough? Too much? Too sentimental? Too practical? Too-

"Hey gorgeous." Yohji's voice, his hair tickling Aya's neck as he kissed his cheek. Warm. Wet.

"Hey," said Aya. "Good shower?"

Yohji knelt on the bed in front of him. His somewhat time-worn robe was held closed by a red ribbon tied around his middle and finished with a big bow.

Aya couldn't quite find the words to ask.

"Great shower," said Yohji, tossing his damp hair out of his eyes. "So. You ready for this?"

"Yeah, sure, um, you want a drink or anything? I could go get-"

"I'm okay," said Yohji. "You go ahead if you want."

"I... no. I'm fine." Aya glared at the bedspread.

"Aya?" Yohji's gentle, patient voice. Serious. Caring. Damnit.

Aya raised his head, trying very hard to keep his nerves under control. Or at the very least, well-hidden. But as soon as he looked into those beautiful green eyes, he was lost. He couldn't hide things from Yohji. It scared him rigid sometimes, but he couldn't.

But Yohji didn't say anything. He leaned closer, and kissed Aya softly, like velvet or chocolate. Aya melted inside. His breath came short. He reached out and tentatively touched Yohji's hair. He smelt good. Shower gel and warm skin. Aya dissolved into Yohji's kiss, and for a moment he forgot about everything except the bliss of touch and taste.

"That's better," Yohji murmured. "Hard day?"

"Kind of," Aya mumbled. He didn't want the kissing to stop, but Yohji was pulling away, and not wanting to give away just how needy he felt, he let him go.

"You went shopping?"

"Yes. I got everything on the list. You?"

"Without killing anyone?"

Aya glared at him.

"Good. So you're ready to wrap?"

Aya surveyed the things neatly laid out on the bed between them. Bulging bags of presents. Paper. Sticky tape. Ribbon. Scissors.

Not so different from flowers, really, he thought, trying to reassure himself.

"The trick is to wrap the little things that go in the stocking in different paper from the main presents," Yohji advised. "Because otherwise, it's obvious that either they're all from us, or we stole our gift wrap from Santa."

"She's seventeen years old," said Aya. "She doesn't actually believe in Santa. Or Hoteiosha, or any of it. It's just... she wanted it to be like it used to be."

"And your parents used to do this?" Yohji's voice was soft, his hands busy sorting through the wrapping paper, eyes watching Aya through the damp strands of dark blond hair that kept falling in his face.

"Yes. Father worked in New York for a year when we were small. Aya-chan was no more than three or four. We arrived a week before Christmas, there was this big tree in our apartment and Aya-chan loved it, she was so excited about Santa and the tinsel and everything... after that our parents always celebrated Christmas that way. Aya-chan would start asking me around October, did I think she'd been a good girl, telling me what she was going to ask for... strange really, for such a traditional Japanese family. But it was..." The words ran out, leaving Aya swallowing hard and not daring to look Yohji in the eye.

"Hey, works for me," said Yohji. "Not that I'd have got any presents. I've always been a naughty boy."

He smirked at Aya, green eyes glittering, and Aya couldn't help but smile back.

"Anyway," said Yohji. "If we're going to do this thing, we'd better get it right, eh?"

Aya took a deep breath, and reached for the ribbon. "Right."

"I like Christmas," Yohji pronounced, tipping the contents of the bag of little gifts carefully over the bed. "It's a real easy time to score."

Aya snorted.

"Oh yes. They'll be pining for Kudoh Yohji in the bars of Tokyo tonight."

Aya had to confess he rather liked that idea. That he had something to himself that was the envy of others. That this popular, complicated man was all his. But he gave Yohji a disapproving glare all the same.

"There was this one time, it must have been the last Christmas before you joined our happy little team, and I managed to persuade Ken to come out for a night of fun and games. There was this really cute girl, she had red hair, not like yours, more plum coloured, and..."

Aya wrapped and taped and ribboned, losing himself in Yohji's endless and ridiculous stories, and somewhere along the line a bottle of wine appeared from under the bed where (according to Yohji) it had been left to reach room temperature. A couple of glasses later and Aya's nerves and sadness had eased considerably, and when Yohji got to the part where Ken turned up at three in the morning covered in lipstick with twins in tow he actually laughed.

Well, it was an amusing image.

"He left them downstairs and ran - I'm not kidding, really, full out ran - up the stairs and hammered on my door. As you can imagine, I wasn't best pleased." Yohji dropped another package into the pile. To Aya's surprise, they were nearly finished. "But being the loyal friend I am, I left the lovely lady in my bed and went to Kenken's aid."

"What was he in such a panic for?" Aya found himself asking, actually sucked into the story.

"Completely out of his depth," said Yohji, with a scornful wave of his hand. "Never had a threesome before, hadn't a clue what to do."

"Is it that different?" The words out before Aya could catch them. He silently cursed the wine, and hoped Yohji hadn't heard him. He liked to keep all traces of his own relative innocence very well hidden from his lover.

"He seemed to think so." There was a glint in Yohji's eyes that left Aya in no doubt that not only had he heard him, but that little snippet had been stored away for future use.

Damn.

"I don't know what he was imagining," Yohji continued. "But the poor boy was very scared. So I did my best, gave him a few tips and sent him back downstairs to broaden his horizons." He refilled Aya's glass, then his own. "Then a while later, just as I was getting my groove back, there's another knock on the door. And there he was again, all of a dither, lipstick smeared all over his face, wearing a towel and a smile. And d'you know what he said?"

Aya shook his head, and took another gulp of wine.

"'You've got to help me, Yohji!' he said, in a frighteningly accurate approximation of Ken's voice. 'I've only got one condom and I don't know which one to fuck'!!" And Yohji dissolved into fits of breathless laughter.

Aya laughed with him, more because Yohji's laughter was infectious than because it was actually funny, although the vision of a panicked, lipstick-covered Ken was more than a little amusing.

"Hey," said Yohji, still grinning to himself. "We're done."

He was right. Everything was wrapped and finished. Aya started to tidy things up, collecting paper snippings and scraps of sticky tape off the comforter while Yohji put the neatly-wrapped presents into a tidy pile by the bed.

Their hands brushed. Their eyes met. Desire flared through Aya in an instant, stealing his breath. It was exhilerating, frightening, the way they could shift from comfortable domesticity to undeniable passion with one touch like that… Aya pushed Yohji back on the comforter and kissed him, slipping a hand under his robe to tweak his nipple. Yohji squeaked and slapped Aya's ass.

Suddenly they were rolling on the bed, wrestling and tickling, and Yohji was giggling, and Aya was lost in a wave of happiness he just couldn't help. He grabbed the ribbon and started to wrap Yohji up in it. Yohji offered token resistance which mostly consisted of attempts to tickle Aya's ribs, so it seemed safest to tie his arms to his sides too.

At least until he had a use for them.

He kissed Yohji until the last echoes of laughter had faded, and they were both hard and breathless, and then he sat back on his heels and sighed.

"Thanks, Yohji," he said, softly.

Yohji smiled. "Anytime."

Aya trailed his fingers over Yohji's chest, the loose bonds rustling under his touch. Leaned over and kissed him, long and languid this time, stroking his hair. He worked his way down his body, a line of kisses from throat to navel; clutched his hips and darted out his tongue to lick his cock from root to tip. Took it in his mouth and sucked gently, Yohji crying out, fists clutching at the comforter.

"Turn around," said Yohji in a strangled gasp, and Aya did. Yohji wriggled under him, feeling for his cock with mouth alone, straining up to lick him. Laughing at his own predicament.

Aya hadn't heard anyone laugh while having sex until he met Yohji.

The laughter subsided, however, as Yohji got to work on his cock. Unable to tease him with his fingers, Yohji sucked Aya's rock-hard length down his throat, lay back and let Aya fuck his mouth. Trusting him not to thrust too hard or fast and choke him. A trust that seemed incredible to Aya, so much so it made his eyes wet and brought an ache to his chest.

Aya was as careful as he could be, even when the pressure began to build and Yohji's hips were rocking underneath him. He was drowning in pleasure: the steady slip and slide of Yohji's mouth over his cock, the hard length throbbing against his tongue, the clean, male scent of Yohji's body, the gasps and grunts he made as he started to come. The taste of the thick, hot semen that filled his mouth, a few drops escaping to dribble down his chin.

Once Yohji was fully spent Aya turned around, supported Yohji's head and fed his cock once more between friction-swollen lips, watching every last inch of himself disappearing into the wet cavern of Yohji's mouth. Teeth closing on his lower lip, knees squeezing Yohji's body beneath him, his gaze fixed on Yohji's from that moment until he came after just a few strokes. Strong, hard pulses down Yohji's throat.

He pulled back and knelt there for a moment, arched over Yohji's bound and panting form, stroking his hair. Gasping for breath, his softening cock wet and sticky against his thigh. Then he moved his faintly trembling limbs and fumbled for the scissors to cut Yohji loose.

Yohji sighed contentedly, stretched his arms and shuffled up the bed a little to rest his head in Aya's lap. He looked up at him with big, happy eyes, and smiled.

"I love you," Yohji said, his voice slightly hoarse

And then, at last, Aya stopped worrying. Under the bed, wrapped up in tissue paper, was a green silk yukata with a pair of tiny emerald earrings in the pocket. Lying here, like this, there were no doubts. Yohji would like them. Not just because he adored pretty, shiny things, but because they were from him. It didn't matter, really. This was what mattered. Him and Yohji and Aya-chan, and this almost-normal life they'd carved out among the chaos. The connection and familiarity he'd never thought he'd ever trust himself to enjoy again.

"Love you too," he said, slightly embarrassed, even now, to confess his feelings. But it was worth it for the look in Yohji's eyes.

"So, Aya," Yohji said. "When d'you put on the Santa outfit and creep into Aya's room?"

Aya was too happy and sated to so much as glare.

 


End file.
